


Silent in the trees

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anger, Car Accident, Cutting, Depression, Eating Disorders, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M, PTSD, Religious Conflict, Self-Harm, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He could see it all again.His friend's head, gaping with blood, and lifeless eyes staring back at him, burning a portrait in his mind. He could feel the blood dripping down his hands again, feel the pain that he felt that night when he had desperately reached for his phone with a dislocated shoulder. His heart began to race as he heard the sirens going off in his head, and images of Josh's body being carried away flashed before his eyes.It was his hands at the wheel. It was his hands that took Josh's life.Shouldn't he pay for that?





	Silent in the trees

On the side of the road used to stand a tall billboard sign that Tyler would pass every time he drove to his friend's house. He never thought much of it on those long, quiet, drives, but now here it lays, busted up on the ground, and he could see it all again.

His friend's head, gaping with blood, and lifeless eyes staring back at him, burning a portrait in his mind. He could feel the blood dripping down his hands again, feel the pain that he felt that night when he had desperately reached for his phone with a dislocated shoulder. His heart began to race as he heard the sirens going off in his head, and images of Josh's body being carried away flashed before his eyes.

It was _his_ hands at the wheel. It was _his_ hands that took Josh's life.

Shouldn't he pay for that?

'Welcome to Columbus, Ohio,' the godforsaken sign read. A place he never wanted to visit again.

He had walked for two miles straight to see the site of the crash. It had only been a week since he'd last seen it, the day that it happened. He stood, shivering in the cold, ruthlessly windy night. He furrowed his eyebrows at a car driving by, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his jacket in an effort to warm them. No matter how cold it got, he'd choose to walk than to ever get behind the wheel of a vehicle again. He turned on his heel, deciding to head back home before it got too dark. His feet were aching.

_Oh well._

* * *

 

He came home to his mother, father, brothers, and sister all sitting on the couch in their living room, cheering for some team in some basketball game they were watching. His mother, Kelly, turned to face him, while the others' eyes stayed glued to the screen.

"Hey, honey," she greeted. "Where were you all day?"

Tyler tossed his backpack beside the door and started up the stairs. "Out."

"Tyler, what's the rush, kiddo?" his father asked, and Tyler stopped in his tracks. "We haven't watched a game together as a family in a while. Why don't you come join us this time?"

"Actually, dad, I'm not really feeling well," Tyler said. "And we sort of have church in the morning, so... I should probably get some sleep."

"There's leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry, you know," his mother informed.

"Thanks, but I kind of have an upset stomach," Tyler replied. "I'll probably feel better in the morning. Night, everyone."

"Hey," his brother, Zack, spoke out of the blue. "Have breakfast with us tomorrow, okay? We miss you."

Tyler forced a smile and gave a small nod, despite knowing he wouldn't be joining them for a meal, and that hurt. He hated seeing his brother so sad. He hated seeing his whole family so sad, but staying away from them was for their own good. They'd be happier that way. He would only burden them with his sorrows.

He continued up to his bedroom, shutting the door behind himself, and he looked around at the mess on his floor. He slid his jacket off and threw it on top of the big pile of clothes sitting in front of his closet. He'd clean it in the morning. Really.

Turning the light off, he fell back onto his bed, and he wasn't gonna lie. He was exhausted, and he wanted nothing but to rest. But how could he when his mind was wide awake?

His eyes shifted to his phone sitting on the nightstand beside him, and he sat up and picked it up, unlocking it and clicking 'Photos'. He scrolled through his camera roll, seeing the pictures he and Josh had taken together and his house. Before the concert. Before they got into that car. Tyler didn't feel sad. Why should he take pity on himself when he was the one who took Josh's happiness away?

He took one look at that smile, that pure joy on Josh's face, and felt nothing but seething rage. His breathing got heavier, his phone shaking in his tight grip, and, with all his might, threw it across the room, its screen cracking after hitting the wall. Tyler sat in a daze, trying to control his breathing.

He needed to get a hold of himself before he broke anything else. He needed to take this anger, this violence, out on something.

Or perhaps some _one_.

Slipping out of bed, he opened the door slightly, poking his head out to see if anyone had come upstairs. Rowdy cheering erupted from his family downstairs, so he felt he was safe. He walked quietly down the hall, his heart beating faster with every step, until he found himself in the bathroom, closing and locking the door. He opened one of the drawers under the sink and gulped, taking out a single razor blade with shaky hands. He held his arm out across the sink, holding the blade above his bare wrist, and... hesitated. He took deep breaths in, whispering a mantra to himself.

"You can do this, you can do this, you can do this..."

The blade touched his wrist, and, slowly, he pushed the tip into his skin, immediately drawing in a sharp breath as blood began to spill over, flowing down the drain. The intense pain caught him by surprise, and he remained still, blade still held in place. He held his breath back and grinded his teeth to keep from making a sound. Tears had already forced their way out of his eyes, dripping onto the counter.

He wanted to stop, but he knew he had to pay for what he did.

He bit down on his lip as he pushed the blade deeper in, and whimpers escaped his mouth. He dragged it down his forearm, and he let himself go, beginning to sob loudly, hyperventilating as his whole body trembled, and he dropped the blade onto the wooden floor. He quickly turned the cold sink water on, running the cuts under it as he held onto the counter with his other hand, trying to keep himself from falling over due to his weakened knees.

He stood there, crying for almost half an hour until the blood stopped gushing out of his arm, and he wiped the snot that came out of his nose as he grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink. He wrapped his cuts tightly in a bandage, then walked back to his room, laid down in his bed, and prayed no one had heard him.

* * *

Tyler's eyes squinted as a bright light shone in them, slowly fluttering them open to meet his mother's. 

"Tyler, you're not even dressed!" she exclaimed, standing at his doorway. "We're gonna be late for church!" 

Tyler yawned as he sat up in bed, still squinting his eyes as they were adjusting to the light. 

"I'm sorry you missed breakfast, honey, and we only have about five minutes 'til we have to go," his mother said, looking at him apologetically. "Are you sure you'll be okay on an empty stomach like that? I can bring something for on the way if you'd like." 

Tyler rubbed his eyes and stood to shut the door. "I'll be fine, mom." 

He began to close the door when his mother noticed the bandage on his left arm, and she swung the door back open.

"Oh, honey, what happened!?" she exclaimed. 

"Nothing, just-" 

"Did someone hurt you!?" 

"What? No, I-I just tripped and fell on my way home last night. It's nothing." 

His mother pressed her lips together, looking a bit concerned. "Alright. No more late-night walks from now on, okay?" 

Tyler rolled his eyes as he closed the door.

"Be ready in five!" his mother's muffled words said behind the door. 

Tyler gave a sigh of relief as he heard her footsteps grow quieter, and he smoothed over his bandage-covered arm. He put on some black dress pants and a light-blue button-up dress shirt, making sure that its sleeve fully covered arm to avoid the inevitable questioning from churchgoers. 

He still wasn't feeling well from last night, but he was certain food would just cause him to puke, so he slipped on his socks and shoes, and left the house without eating anything. 

* * *

Tyler was sat between his mother and his brother Jay in the auditorium, and he was bouncing his leg up and down, looking around in the building, wishing the church service would end soon so that he could go back home and hopefully try to get some sleep for once. 

"Quit being so antsy," his mother whispered to him. 

He attempted to focus on what the pastor was saying, but his eyes were droopy and his mind was in another place, and the words Pastor Johnson spoke were so repetitive.

"All have a chance to be with Christ up in heaven and join in the glory of our Lord and Savior, whether you are a witch, a thief, or have committed any sin of the like. The Lord will cleanse your heart of sin, but you must pray and ask him to," Pastor Johnson preached.

Tyler's eyelids grew heavier, and he felt as though he may fall asleep right then and there. 

"There is only but one sin that is unforgivable," Pastor Johnson continued, and Tyler's eyes shot open, because that caught his attention. 

"If thou takest the life of a man, which is an abomination to The Lord, thy soul may not enter the kingdom of heaven," Pastor Johnson concluded. 

Tyler's heart was beating through his chest, the butterflies in his stomach flapping their wings harder. His mother glanced up at him as he stood and excused himself, then dashed down the hall and to the bathroom, swinging the stall open. He threw up in the toilet, the acid burning in his mouth afterwards. He sat down, tucking his knees into his chest. He closed his eyes tightly, his breathing becoming stronger, and he opened his mouth and let out a scream, and began to thrash his head against the wall. 

Everyone must have heard because his mother and three men came rushing to the bathroom to see what was going on. His mom told them to go back, explaining that it was personal, and they did so, and she ran over to Tyler to comfort him, knowing full well what had come over him. 

Tyler hid his head in the crook of her neck, and finally allowed himself to feel sad, and he just cried. She rubbed his back as they sat in silence until church was over. 

* * *

Tyler's mother brought to him a bowl of leftover chicken-noodle soup that she had warmed up, kissing his forehead.

"I want you to eat all of this, okay?" she said. "Get better, baby."

"Thanks, mom."

She smiled at her son. "Have a good night's sleep."

She closed the door softly behind herself. Tyler finished his soup a few minutes later, setting the bowl on his nightstand. He stared out his window.

The truth was, he badly needed sleep. But he had other things on his mind.

He waited until he heard snoring coming from his parents' room, making sure they were asleep, then climbed out of bed to get his jacket on, then lifted his window open, crawling out of it.

The dark sky was lit only by the moon, but it shone brightly enough to see as he walked down the sidewalk of his suburban neighborhood.

* * *

His feet had dragged on for what seemed like hours until he finally made it to the forest. He wasn't quite sure of its name. He never bothered to remember it despite the many camping trips he and Josh would take with each other's families when they were kids. 

He did however remember the times they'd stay up and wait for their parents to be asleep, then sneak out of their tents and play hide-and-sneak deep in the woods, far away from the camping site. Tyler laughed dryly, realizing how dangerous and stupid it was. But how he'd give anything to do it again. 

He continued walking through the forest, stepping on sticks and breaking them on the way, until he reached a spot, spacious yet surrounded with trees. 

The forest was the one place where he truly felt he could be alone, where he could be as loud as he wanted and no one would hear him. But he didn't want to be alone this time. That's not why he came.

He lifted his head and faced toward the starry sky, the tops of the pine trees still in his field of vision, and he opened his mouth and yelled out. 

"Hello!?" 

He stood, waiting. For a sign. Anything. 

No answer.

He yelled once more, louder this time. 

" _Hello_!?" 

Maybe he should just turn back. Maybe this was a mistake. 

"Hello," he said, quietly. 

Maybe God didn't want to speak with him. Maybe God didn't exist at all. 

Either way, it was hopeless. There was no saving Tyler's soul.

* * *

Every day started the same way. Tyler would wake up in his bed, not knowing what time it was, or even what day it was for that matter. But this time he did know the day - Monday. School.

He shot up out of bed and threw on a white T-shirt and a pair of gray, slim-fit sweatpants. He pulled on a pair of white socks, then ran down the stairs to put on his shoes, but was stopped by his mother. 

"Tyler, what are you doing?" she asked. "I already called your principal and told him you're staying home today. You're sick, remember?" 

Tyler stared at her. "Oh." He scratched the back of his head. "Right."

"Did you get any sleep last night? Your eyes look bloodshot," she noted. Then she sniffled and plugged her nose. "And when was the last time you showered?" 

"I don't know... four days ago?" Tyler guessed. 

His mother's eyes widened. "Tyler, you really need to get better. Go on and take a shower and have breakfast, and then I want you to take a nice, long nap, okay?" 

"Alright, mom." 

Tyler sighed as he walked upstairs to the bathroom, shutting the door. He pulled his shirt off and dropped his pants down, kicking them off. He pulled his socks off, then unwrapped the bandage on his arm, hopping into the warm shower water. The water stung his cuts, so he kept them out in the dry. 

After washing his hair and body, he stepped out and dried himself off with a towel, then wrapped it around his waist. 

He decided he'd pour hydrogen peroxide on his cuts to heal them faster, so he grabbed the bottle out of the medicine cabinet, sitting on the side of the bathtub. He gasped as the chemical hit his arm, the liquid pouring into the tub. 

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, and he felt his heart skip a beat. 

"J-Just a minute!" 

"Tyler? What's going on?" his mother asked.

"I'm just finishing up!" Tyler quickly responded.

"I haven't heard the water running in a while. Everything okay in there?" she said. 

"Yeah, I'm-I'm just shaving, I-" 

The door opened, and Tyler silently cursed himself for forgetting to lock it. He didn't have time to hide his arm before his mother had seen it, her face going pale.

"Good God, Tyler, what happened!?" she exclaimed. 

"I already told you, mom, I just fell on some rocks." 

"It doesn't look like you just fell on rocks!" 

"I'm fine, mom!" Tyler said. 

"No, you're not fine!" she exclaimed. Her gaze averted to something on the floor. Tyler's eyes followed, and... shit. He had forgotten to pick that up. 

His mother's mouth went agape as she shakily grabbed the blood-stained razor blade laying on the ground, and she looked back and forth, between it and Tyler. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as they both just stared at each other. 

"Tyler..."

He furrowed his eyebrows, his expression turning to anger. 

"Get out..." he murmured. 

"Oh, Tyler." 

"I said get out!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking. 

Tears formed in his mother's eyes. "Please tell me I'm not losing you, Tyler! Tell me I'm not losing my baby!" 

"Everything is fine, mom, just go!"

"Chris! Chris, get in here now!" she called, and Tyler's father came running, his jaw dropping upon seeing the scars on Tyler's arm. Then his face turned red as he began to yell at him. 

"Tyler, how could you!? How could you do this to your mother and I!?" 

Tyler pushed past his parents as he ran to his room, locking the door. He slid down against it, sitting with his face in his knees. His bottom lip quivered as he heard his mother and father fighting with each other from across the hall. 

Something about taking their son to a mental ward.

* * *

 

Tyler had stayed locked in his room all day, afraid of facing his family.

His stomach rumbled, and he just wanted to eat something. He hadn't eaten much for the past few days.

But he could still hear his parents fighting in their room in the middle of the night.

They had already called the mental hospital, and Tyler was set to be put in the psych ward tomorrow morning.

He wanted to just eat and get some sleep, but his thoughts were keeping him up. The whole house was still awake with him. He knew because he could hear his brother Zack pacing in his room on the other side of the wall. Probably worried about him. The last thing Tyler wanted was for his family to worry about him. To be a burden.

He was taken from his thoughts when he heard a knock.

"Go away!"

"Ty, it's just me," Zack said from behind the door.

Tyler felt calmer at the sound of his brother's voice, and he got up from his bed to unlock and open the door. Zack walked in and shut the door behind them, then looked down.

"Uh, hey," he said.

"Hey," Tyler said.

They both stared down awkwardly.

"So, um... can I talk to you?" Zack asked.

"Sure," Tyler invited, and Zack sat on Tyler's bed, Tyler following suit. Neither of them looked at each other, choosing to look at their own hands in their laps instead.

"So..."

Tyler sighed. "Look, Zack, everything is fine, okay? Mom and dad just-"

"Can you just tell me what's going on? In your life?" Zack asked.

Tyler stared blankly at him.

"I mean, I guess if you don't want to tell me..." Zack said. "I can just leave."

"No," Tyler said. "No, you deserve to know."

Zack looked surprised. Tyler sighed again.

"It was me. I was the one who killed Josh." He gulped, holding back tears. "We were driving to that-that concert, and... you know, the road was really icy, and I just-"

Zack engulfed Tyler in a hug, and Tyler began choking on tears. Zack's eyes began to water too, because, even though he hadn't known Josh very well, it hurt to see his brother like this.

"It wasn't your fault," he said. "Do you hear me, Tyler? That was not your fault."

Tyler heard his brother's words, and he wanted to believe them. He tried to believe them. But his heart was filled with guilt.

Zack let Tyler cry into his shoulder for as long as he needed. He was always a good brother like that.

Tyler had forgotten that.

* * *

4 AM.

Zack had gone back to his room ages ago, presumably asleep by now. Tyler was restless.

The sky was still a dark blue, and swirly clouds floated in it, along with faded stars that had lost their shine.

The morning would come soon, and Tyler needed to leave. He needed to go back to the forest before the sun rose.

He stood, grabbed his jacket, slipped it on, and climbed out his window one last time.

* * *

"Come on, you coward!" 

Tyler stood in the same place in the forest he had come to before, yelling up at the sky. Taunting. 

"If you really are real, show me! Show me a sign!" 

As usual, he received no answer. 

Tyler took a deep breath in, and then he screamed, kicking a pebble in anger.

He fell back onto the ground, feeling all the hope draining from him in that moment. 

"Please," he said. 

The wind began to pick up, whistling as Tyler closed his eyes, and, for a moment, he felt at peace. He let himself drift off to sleep, silent in the trees. 

* * *

He opened his eye when the bright sun peeked its way up in the east. He sat up, realizing he was outside, still in the forest. Half a mile away from home.

He scrambled himself up, his hair disheveled and his clothes dirty. It looked to be about six in the morning.

He really didn't want to be put in a psych ward. In fact, he felt he didn't even need to go. He no longer felt like taking his anger out on himself anymore. He thought of something better to channel his emotions into.

But he didn't have much time, so he began to run.

He could make it before sun rise.

* * *

It was 6:45 AM when he finally made it home, gasping for air. He listened for his parents, and he could still hear faint snoring coming from upstairs.

Quietly he walked downstairs to the basement. There stood a wooden upright piano, and he took a seat in front of it.

He felt the keys with his fingertips, until he landed on a single note, and pressed down.

And he began to write a song about the trees.


End file.
